


Filling the Gap

by Faltering_Light



Series: WhumpTimber 2020 [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, people handling grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26474008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faltering_Light/pseuds/Faltering_Light
Summary: Bruce thinks Tim is Jason sometimes. So does Alfred. He doesn't mind, not really.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: WhumpTimber 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924624
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Filling the Gap

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by [EmarisLaughsManiacally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmarisLaughsManiacally)
> 
> This fills both my Batman Bingo square "secret injury" (rolling with hidden and not very well hidden mental/emotional wounds) and the Whumptober theme 19 Broken Hearts prompts one & two Grief | Mourning Loved One

Bruce held out his hand, ready to receive. “Jaylad, can you pass me the-”

The tool he was going to ask for was in his hand before he even finished speaking.

Tim counted down the seconds until broad shoulders pulled wire-taught, and again until Bruce managed to forcibly relax himself. Three seconds and seven seconds respectively.

One of those days, then.

\-------------

This part was the worst. It was bad enough when it was back in the Cave, early enough in the morning after patrol that he could pretend it was just a name slip, no big deal. He could brush it off and nip back over to his house (not home, never home, not really, not for a long time, but  _ focus _ -) while Bruce slept and go about one of several daily routines.

Usually it was just check the voicemail on the home phone, submit all the work for his classes, start the next round of assignments- homeschool had been a GREAT idea, no more questions about who was picking him up or why no one ever showed up to parent-teacher conferences, much, much easier this way, ten points to him, make it twenty because there wasn't anyone asking about the bruises and stiffness either. Finish out any miscellaneous tasks, head back over.

Weekends were usually nap, develop photos, or edit digital ones, depending on what camera he had been messing with during the week. Finish out any bigger projects, submit them, maybe clean a bit, and head back over.

This had been the once-a-month day, though. Bill day. Go through and make sure everything was topped off that he could actually access, which was really mostly just his phone, the internet, and food delivery. He could probably get into the accounts in his parents name, but it wouldn’t really be worth it. Too noticeable. (Too easy to get caught, he was already too expensive, too much trouble, too much effort... No reason for them to already be mad if they came back home. _ When.  _ When they came back home this time.) Head back over.

He was already braced for it when it happened thanks to the slip in the Cave earlier and prior experience, not that it really helped. Five minutes after he sat down, like clockwork, every single day he got a count in that range.

“Jay, chum, how’s your classwork going?” Bruce took a couple of swallows of his coffee and then closed his eyes, abruptly setting the mug down on the table. A very precise movement, lacking the usual thunking sound when it made contact with the wood.

A beat, and he left his newspaper unfolded on the table when he very carefully, calmly, fled the room with measured steps.

Tim looked over to where Alfred was standing at the counter. Head bowed, eyes closed, lips in a tight line, grip tight on the cloth he had been using, bracing himself with both hands.

Alfred hurt more to watch somehow, the way he let his grief wrap him up for a few minutes instead of pretending nothing had happened the way Bruce did. Pretending looked less painful, somehow.

He reached over and pulled Bruce’s coffee to sit next to his own plate. No sense in wasting it, right? And if he pulled the paper over too, like it had been his from the start, maybe... Maybe he could keep getting away with sitting here a bit longer, in this warm place he wasn’t really supposed to be, if he pretended too.

\--------

Patrol was almost as bad as the broken look Alfred had when Bruce slipped like that, but this part never really bothered him that much.

This part was why he was there, after all.

He hadn’t been tagging along as Robin for very long, but it was much easier to see where the gaps were now than it had been when he was just sneaking around with a camera. Back before... Back when he hadn't had any training yet. He had a much better idea of what he was looking at, now.

Batman ducking out of the way, leaving the initial opponent overextended while he took on the other, more heavily armed one. Without a second person, the first goon had time to recover and try again.

Batman striking when he should have blocked, no one there to take advantage and whip out of the blind spot he had made to back him up.

Batman bracing himself to be used as a launch pad, leaving himself overbalanced when that weight never appeared.

Batman turning to him with a smile after he actually caught what was going to happen in time and filled that gap, when he turned what would have been another knife wound into a win. Batman actually seeing him, and freezing halfway through a congratulatory remark when he found the wrong person at his side.

As much as he tried to laugh off Batman-  _ Batman _ \- losing his composure to himself, it never really worked. The half-hearted verbal finish and conciliatory pat on the shoulder always, always burned.

That was fine, though.

He wasn’t there to replace Jason. That wasn’t even really possible, not that he would ever have been able to manage it anyway. Not that he was good enough to even think of trying.

He was there because someone had to fill those gaps.

He was there to make sure the medical inventory in the Cave stayed level, instead of being blown through in a few days.

He was there to make sure Batman made it home.

He was there to make sure everyone else made it home, to get better and better at stepping into the places another, more competent Robin should have been so Batman didn’t have to hit twice as hard, so he had some incentive to actually get back to the Cave instead of staying out for days at a time. To make sure Batman had “not in front of the kid” tucked somewhere in the back of his mind, to keep him from going too far.

It didn’t really matter that Alfred startled when he turned around and caught a glimpse of him most of the time.

It didn’t matter that Bruce couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him some days, and almost never called him by the right name.

It didn’t matter that he was playing the part of a ghost, just close enough in appearance to make it impossible for him to ever really be wanted there. For him to fit there.

It didn’t matter, because the work he was doing was worth it.

It didn’t matter, because he got to help people, help Gotham, help  _ Batman _ .

He didn’t really care that no one actually wanted him there.

It didn’t matter, because he was finally  _ useful. _


End file.
